


Behind The Mask

by Glass_Oceans



Series: The Ficlet Collection [131]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 15:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16813777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_Oceans/pseuds/Glass_Oceans
Summary: For the send me a ship: canon-verse Kylux and 34 <3 (meeting at a masquerade ball au)





	Behind The Mask

**Author's Note:**

> Masquerade ball, costumes

“They asked us to take part in their festivities.”

“And does this include you, general? Will you sacrifice your uniform?”

Safely hidden behind his mask, Kylo smiled as Hux visibly bristled. 

“I am as willing to shed my uniform as you are to shed that mask,” Hux all but spat. Then, gathering himself, “but I will do so for the good of the order.”

For the good of the order. 

Their conversation echoed through Kylo’s mind as he stood in his changing room, attendants fussing around him as they dressed him in the costume that had been prepared for him. 

Every party that arrived had been escorted to their set of suites, then taken individually to be prepared. A true masquerade; no-one would see another’s costume until the ball itself. It was, Kylo mused, also a perfect opportunity for an assassination attempt, but even as he kept his senses alert to the possibility, the people around him were solely concerned with the correct drape of his costume and the application of paints to his face. 

Though he’d seen the costume on the hanger when he’d entered the room, it was still something of a shock when the attendants stepped back and allowed him to see his own reflection. He stared back at himself from the visage of a shattered mirror. 

His hair had been combed back, coloured grey on the outermost layers and a veil of small, irregular mirrors draped over it. The mask on his face dipped down in ragged edges to his cheeks, leaving spaces for his eyes, rimmed with black to make them look impossibly deep and his lips, shimmering with silver glitter. The costume itself is brilliant in its simplicity; a long robe encrusted with mirror shards falls in generous folds, moving easily over the tunic and trousers he wears under for comfort. He half expects the glass of the shards to chime when he moves, and he tilts his head in curious amusement when he finds that the robe moves silently. 

From there he’s guided to an antechamber before he enters the ballroom. There is to be no announcement of course, so Kylo waits impatiently until the doors are opened. When they do, his costume instantly catches the light in the room, splintering it and throwing it back as he moves into the room, both drawing attention to himself and leaving people unable to look at him. 

He stands at the top of a short set of stairs, surveying the room. At one end, in front of grand high windows, a dance floor is full of colour and swirling costume, the lead partner only designated by which side of the dance floor they stand on when the music begins, allowing them to continue any charade they have chosen. 

The far wall is piled high with decorative foodstuffs, cakes that almost reach to the ceiling with their spun sugar filigrees, delicate morsels that might be of questionable morality are served by liveried servants, themselves wearing simple masks so as not to be mistaken for a guest of more importance. 

Scattered here and there are clusters of people, some chatting idly, passing small talk about the ball, the weather, what secluded places the mansion might have to offer, while others have already identified each other despite the masks, and have begun to make negotiations ahead of the official talks. 

And none of them are the person Kylo is looking for. 

He is beginning to suspect that part of his costume has Force dampening abilities, or perhaps Hux’s costume does. He can spy nothing of the general in the crowded room, neither the military bearing that he cannot help but fall into, or the flaming beacon of his hair. 

“Ren.”

Kylo feels a shiver down his spine as he turns to the familiar voice. Hux is dressed like a lion of sorts, extravagant prosthetics have been added to his body and face to give him the appearance of a large cat’s jowl, and their backwards jointed legs. A large wig of beaten matt metal curls adorns his head, covering his own hair, looking regal and deadly sharp. He wears black satin breeches and a red coat, something that is reminiscent of a circus ringmaster, and Kylo smiles at the thought of Hux being portrayed as captive and captor both. 

“How did you find me?”

The cheeks of the costume lift, whiskers twitching in response to Hux’s genuine smile. 

“You were staring here, looking out over everything.”

“Is all this so common to you?”

“Far from it,” Hux replied. “But I am trained enough to know to mingle, not to gawp.” He lowered his voice, leaning towards Kylo. “Not to stare like a republic boy left too long on the sidelines by older, more political minds.”

Kylo stared at Hux as he straightened again, but his expression held no disdain for Kylo’s childhood, whatever his privileges or shortcomings might have been. Simply pointing out something that if he could see, no doubt others could too. 

“I believe I spy the tsar of the agriculture consortium we need to talk to. Shall we?”

Hux held out his arm, fist closed and turned down. Kylo smirked as he laid his hand over Hux’s, allowing himself to be led towards the discussion. Hux already had a charade in mind for them as they moved through this ball. Kylo was looking forward to finding out exactly what it was.


End file.
